


The Truth in Misdirection

by ettaberry_tea



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Anger Management, Cardassian Culture, Deep space nine needs a social worker, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Parole Officer, or maybe ten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:27:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27004306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ettaberry_tea/pseuds/ettaberry_tea
Summary: Garak needs to win over his parole officer if he doesn't want to be sent back to prison on Bajor. Unfortunately for him, she is not charmed by his usual brand of bs.This is inspired by and set directly after Almaasi's fic 'Parole,' in which Garak returns on parole after having spent three months in prison for attempting to destroy the Founders' home world.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38





	The Truth in Misdirection

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Parole](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26940871) by [almaasi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/almaasi/pseuds/almaasi). 



> I was originally going to write about asexuality, but it turned into this instead. I'm going to have to write a part 2.

Julian squeezed Garak’s hand. They were sitting on flimsy, plastic chairs in a beige hallway. “Just tell her what happened. It would be good to have her on our side when we face the arbiter for your appeal.”

Garak gave Julian a reassuring smile. He’d charmed his way out of many a tight corner before. Unfortunately, his parole officer would be a Bajoran, which would present more of a challenge. 

Garak shifted in his chair, which wobbled unsettlingly. Julian was tapping his foot nervously. Suddenly, the door right next to Garak’s shoulder sprung open. A short, fat, Bajoran woman, wearing a crisp, grey dress, stepped out into the hallway. She was followed by a tall, Bajoran man. The man glared down at Garak. “What’s the cardie tailor doing here?”

“Never mind that. Move along,” said the woman.

The man glared at her and back at Garak for a tense five seconds, then stalked off down the hallway.

“Garak,” the woman said. Her face was neutral, but not unkind. “I’m Tilan. Please come in.”

Garak stood and gave Julian’s hand a squeeze before dropping it. He walked into Tilan’s office. She followed him in. Her office was arranged so that she could quickly exit. It was void of anything to throw or break. There were some pictures, well secured to the walls, of the Lanath Cannon on Bajor, that marginally improved the ambiance. 

Tilan gestured for Garak to take a seat. She sat down behind her desk. Garak was amused by the power dynamic the desk created between them. It would make an ordinary person squirm. The metaphorical kotra board was set, and he sensed he sat across from a worthy opponent.

Tilan gave him a moment to stew as she brought up his records on her terminal. She took a deep breath and let out a sigh of – performative exasperation? She pinned Garak with her brown, probing eyes. There was humor in them, almost affection. “Garak, Garak, Garak.” She said his name three times, leaning back in her chair.

Garak refused to let her maneuver him into babbling and spraying excuses everywhere. He returned her gaze, evenly.

“I didn’t even get to _meet_ you before you violated the terms of your parole! What happened?”

There wasn’t a hint of the passive aggressiveness he was used to from Bajorans. Her face was open and warm. Anyone unaware of her tactics could make the mistake of trusting her and incriminating themselves. _Odo should take notes,_ thought Garak. He took a breath in.

“Ah, well, I let my emotions… get the better of me. It was foolish. Obviously, I regret it.”

“Your emotions.”

“Yes, ah, I…” Garak picked which obfuscation to go with and played up his discomfort in order to sell it. He leaned forwards, crossed his arms, and brought his knees together, projecting nervousness. “This station, in a way, is another prison for me. I was sent here, originally, as a punishment. Upon returning here, the permanence of my original sentence struck me and I … I behaved irrationally out of the strong emotions I was feeling at the time.”

“What emotions were you feeling?” Tilan asked in a neutral manner; It was not sympathetic but not accusing either.

Garak stared off into space to his left. He thought about his time in exile. It wasn’t hard to dreg up some emotions to embellish his misdirection. “Anger,” he said, “mainly at myself, and hopelessness.” He was genuinely beginning to feel those emotions as he thought about it.

Tilan studied him. Garak looked up at her. He blinked and let a tear roll down the side of his nose for her benefit.

“So, when you arrived yesterday, you felt angry and hopeless at having returned to this station, and decided to jam the turbolift with a skimmer key card, ditch commander Worf, and attempt to disable the docking ring’s security tracking system, presumably to attempt to leave this station.”

“One could draw such a conclusion,” said Garak.

The corner of Tilan’s mouth twitched upwards at Garak’s non-answer. “Your friend, Doctor Bashir, came to bring you home from prison.”

Garak sat up a bit straighter and met Tilan’s eyes. 

“Where was he in all of this?” she asked.

“He was catching up with his girlfriend, I believe.”

“I saw him in the hallway, waiting with you. I got the impression that you both are quite close.”

Garak did not confirm nor deny that.

“Did he know that you intended to make a run for it?”

Garak sidestepped the leading question. “I did not inform the good doctor that I was about to break parole.”

“So, you were going to leave without saying goodbye?”

“I don’t believe I confirmed whether or not I intended to leave at all!” said Garak.

“Then what was your intension?”

Garak glared at her.

“We… had a fight just before arriving. I was not thinking clearly. I was angry and fell into old habits.”

“Old habits?”

Damn. He had come close to referring to his previous profession.

“I sabotaged myself in my anger.”

“In your anger at Doctor Bashir.”

“In my anger in general.”

“So, that’s something that you’ve done more than once then: sabotage yourself when you are angry.”

Garak sat up straight in his chair. “Are you attempting to therapize me? I don’t recall consenting to any therapy.”

Tilan smiled at Garak’s reaction. “I’m trying to understand your point of view, Garak. I have to write a report that will be read by the arbiter who will rule on your appeal to have an alternative penalty for breaking parole. This is your chance to tell your side of what happened.”

Garak bristled. “And what will any of this possibly accomplish? I’m a Cardassian! It would be irrational to expect any sympathy from a Bajoran arbiter. I see no purpose to this discussion, other than for your own amusement.”

Tilan raised her eyebrows. 

“You expect the arbiter to be biased against you.”

“Of course!” said Garak, rolling his eyes at the ceiling.

“Do you expect me to treat you unfairly because you are a Cardassian?”

“Yes?”

Tilan took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly through her nose. “I believe you when you say that you acted impulsively out of an emotional response. You would have chosen a more opportune moment to make your escape had it been premeditated. Because of that, I would like to suggest to the arbiter that you be allowed to remain on Deep Space Nine under house arrest, as you are currently, instead of returning to prison.”

Garak let himself feel a moment of hope, before tethering it with his usual suspicion. This was all still a game after all.

“But, if I’m going to do that, I need you to be open with me. I sense that you’re holding something back. Your story doesn’t quite add up.”

The truth. She dared to ask him for his intimate truth in exchange for his freedom. Garak stood up, his eyes darkening. Tilan stood up also.

Anger boiled in Garak’s chest. His voice started off quiet, dangerous, and grew in a crescendo. “You, my dear, are duplicitous! You project this benevolent persona, yet, behind it, you hold all of the threat-power in this room. I must say, your performance was impressive, but I would rather return to prison than allow myself to be manipulated in such a manner.”

It appeared he had caught her off guard. Perhaps a Bajoran would not be so offended, but Garak seethed. “I wonder, do you enjoy having me at your mercy? Or perhaps you have deluded yourself in to thinking that you are good, and kind and fair. There’s one thing I’m certain of: you would have made an excellent inquisitor had you been born a Cardassian. Your technique is superlative.”

Tilan had her mouth open. “Inquisitor? Wait, what?”

Garak straightened to his full height. “You heard me.”

“You find me insincere.”

“Oh, more than insincere. Malevolent.”

“I just said that I don’t think that you should be made to return to prison. How am I being malevolent?”

“That’s not what you said at all! You accused me of lying and then said that you’d only recommend that I not be sent back to prison if I shared my intimate truth with you. You dare ask for what you have not earned under the guise of ‘helping’ me!”

“Garak, no, wait, that’s what you heard? I…”

“I really should leave,” said Garak, “before I say anything I might later regret.”

>>\----------o----------<<

“Doctor! I wouldn’t have expected to find you here! Misbehaved, have we?”

“Hello Quark.”

Julian could hear the muffled sound of Garak shouting at his parole officer. He stretched out his legs and tapped his heals against the floor, one at a time.

Quark sat down next to him. “Is that Garak in there? Well that makes more sense.”

Quark touched his ear, adjusting its shape for optimum eavesdropping. “What is he going on about? Inquisitors?”

“Keep your ears to yourself,” Julian snapped.

Quark help up his hands, placatingly. “He’s the one who’s shouting.”

The door burst open and Julian jumped to his feet. “Garak.”

“Let’s go, Doctor.”

Julian walked backwards in front of Garak, trying to slow him down. “Hold on a moment! Garak, stop!”

Julian stood his ground and held out his arms to prevent Garak from plowing into him. Garak reluctantly stopped.

“What happened in there?”

“It would be in both of our best interest if you got out of my way, my dear.”

Julian stepped out of shoving range. 

“I need to go home,” said Garak.

“All right, we’ll go home.”

>>\----------o----------<<

Despite the current conflict, Julian felt a surge of joy that by ‘home,’ Garak meant his quarters. Garak circled the room, shoving furniture out of his path aggressively. Julian helped him clear the way so that he could pace as he seemed to want to. He sat down on the displaced sofa.

Garak stopped suddenly. He stared off into space for a beat. “I don’t want to go back.”

“Of course you don’t, and you won’t. I’ll do everything I can to prevent it.”

Garak glanced at Julian. “I don’t believe you have quite as much say in the matter as you presume to, my dear. No, there are some things that are far beyond your influence.”

He looked up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly, his lips starting to quiver. His energy had completely changed.

“Julian, what have I done?” Garak's voice was low and thick. He sank to the floor. “I’m an idiot,” he wailed.

He started to sob. Julian went and sat down in front of him. He put his hands on Garak’s upper arms, lightly. “Hey, hey. It’s all right. We’ll figure this out.”

“I- just- want- to- be- with- you!” Garak sobbed and grabbed Julian in a wet hug.

Julian held Garak close and rubbed his back. He kissed his temple and felt a surge of oxytocin; it made his insides feel warm. He gave Garak a squeeze. Garak hiccupped and dug his nails in. How privileged he felt to be allowed to see this side of him.

They stayed on the floor until Julian’s legs fell asleep. Garak was still crying. Julian guided him to sit down on the sofa. He brought him some tea to keep him hydrated. Garak wiped his face and got hit by a fresh wave of emotions. He crumpled in on himself. Julian wrapped his arms around him.

“I’ve never seen you cry like this before, not even when you were going through detox. I’m thankful that you feel safe enough with me to cry.”

Garak looked up at him and smiled with puffy eyes. “You’ve earned it, my dear.”

“I’ve earned your trust.”

“My _cufaso’cil._ My truth. My vulnerability. You are worthy of it.”

Garak abruptly stood up. “My parole officer felt she should be privileged to my _cufaso’cil,_ and, when I didn’t give her what she wanted, she attempted to manipulate me into sharing.”

Julian couldn’t help but smile. He was starting to picture what had happened now. “She asked you to tell the truth.”

Garak started to pace again.

“Garak.”

Garak was working himself back up into a rage.

“What was it that you didn’t want to tell her?”

“It’s larger than that,” said Garak. “I don’t mind others knowing that, for example, you and I are in a relationship, but it’s a different matter to demand details about my personal life under the guise of having my best interests at heart, while implying that not co-operating will result in extra penalization.”

“You believe that she was attempting to force you to be vulnerable.”

“She was! And, frankly, I don’t even think she sees anything wrong with that. I’ll say this though: I found her tactics quite… familiar.”

“Familiar to your previous line of work?”

Garak stopped in front of Julian and raised his eye ridges in confirmation.

Julian took in a deep, refreshing breath and closed his eyes for a moment. Garak picked up his mug of lukewarm tea and drank from it. 

When Garak spoke again, his voice was calmer. “Perhaps,” he said, “I may have overreacted a little.”

“Perhaps,” said Julian, trying not to smile.

“I’m afraid she got the better of me. I’m starting to feel quite embarrassed at my outburst.”

Garak sat down next to Julian. His shoulders sagged. “I should probably message her, shouldn’t I.”

“I think,” said Julian, “that would be a good idea.”

>>\----------o----------<<

Garak sat in front of Tilan’s desk once more. This time, Julian was at his side.

“I’m sorry for shouting at you and abruptly leaving yesterday,” said Garak. “I..”

He looked at Julian. They had practiced this. “When you asked me to be vulnerable with you, I felt angry and incredulous. Cardassians are a deeply private people. We are only, ah- my language does not directly translate- vulnerable, open, truthful – um, only with our closest friends and family. It is custom to- ah, again there is no word- to say things that are close to the truth but that are not considered lies. 

When I broke parole, the good doctor and I had just had a terrible fight. I was… heartbroken. He… I didn’t care about saying goodbye. I didn’t see the point to anything but getting as far away from him as possible. I told you earlier that I was upset simply about returning to this station because to speak of anything more personal than that- well we don’t really have any kind of relationship between us that would… lead naturally to that kind of conversation.”

“So, when I asked you to be open, you interpreted that as offensive,” Tilan said. “Perhaps we have had a bit of a cross-cultural miscommunication.”

“Indeed,” said Garak.

“I’m sorry,” said Tilan.

Garak tilted his head in a surprised manner.

“I did not intend to imply that you should share anything with me that you would only feel comfortable sharing with someone close.”

“Then what were you intending to communicate?” asked Garak.

Tilan smiled. “I just want you to be honest with me.”

Garak looked at Julian, indicating that he would like some help.

“I think that, from Garak’s point of view, just merely asking for honesty comes across like asking him to take all his clothes off,” said Bashir.

Garak laughed in agreement. Tilan frowned and looked past Garak’s left shoulder into space.

“Well,” she said, after some thought, “it’s quite possible to tell the truth and still maintain one’s personal boundaries.”

“Oh?” said Garak.

“Saying that the reason for the emotional response that lead to you making the poor choice of breaking parole is deeply personal, and that you don’t want to go into any detail still counts as telling the truth.”

Garak frowned. “I suppose it does, but would you have really accepted that?”

“I might have probed a little more, but yes.”

“Interesting. I would have found such a statement a cause for suspicion.”

“Oh? You have some sort of related experience to my profession?”

Garak smiled his charming but secretive smile. “I used to work in law enforcement on my home planet.”

Tilan smiled back. “Was that one of those statements that you were talking about that is both the truth and a lie?”

“You understand! The word in Cardassi is _kalso’cil._ It is close enough to the truth to serve the purpose of the conversation.”

“Perhaps we can both adjust to each other,” said Tilan. “You can practice being more direct when you don’t want to share something, and I’ll work on getting used to this, um, _kalso’cil,_ this way of yours of communicating.”

“That seems fair,” said Garak.

Everything went a lot smoother after that.

>>\----------o----------<<

“I don’t want to see a counsellor,” complained Garak.

“Come on Garak, I think the arbiter let you off pretty damn easy. Requiring mandated counselling is logical considering you based your appeal on having been in distress when you broke parole.”

Garak sulked.

“You’re seeing a counsellor and it will be good for you.”

“I pity the counsellor,” said Garak.

Julian rolled his eyes and gave his grumpy partner a kiss on the cheek. It felt so good to have him just be nearby again. It was a relief that Garak wasn’t about to be sent back to prison. He really just wanted to explore this new intimacy that had bloomed between the two of them without the added drama of court appointments and parole officers.

Garak, upon getting bored of sulking, set up the kotra board between them. He put on a playful, flirtatious grin. “Make your move, doctor.”

Julian grinned back and the game began.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I appreciate kudos, comments, and constructive feedback! I'm studying social service work, so it was extra fun to write a parole officer character. I took inspiration from one of my profs, lol. I really should be doing my homework.
> 
> Credit to Vyc and Tinsnip's English-Kardassi Dictionary.


End file.
